


Little Ball of Fur

by TheEarlyKat



Series: Warden Leverette [12]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Elves purr and no one can tell me otherwise, Fluff, Levy doesn't know elves purr, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, and loses his mind about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 09:46:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6369928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEarlyKat/pseuds/TheEarlyKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leverette doesn't know that elves purr and Zevran doesn't know that sometimes Levy makes happy noises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Ball of Fur

**Author's Note:**

> I was talking to a friend about how, if elves purring is a thing, Leverette needs to know about it because he would absolutely love it. About 20 minutes later I had this. It's very early in the morning/really late at night so apologies for typos.

There was a storm in his chest, a marching of steel clad boots, stamping horses, a wind that rattled with the deep thrum of a war horn. A weight kept him pinned to the ground and Leverette searched blindly in the dark for his staff with an outstretched hand. His thoughts were slowed with the fog that came with waking quickly from a deep sleep, too vulnerable to risk a dip into the Fade to call for a wisp of light and too scattered to put together the fact that though his bones reverberated with sound the ground remained still and silent beneath him.

Leverette left his hand buried beneath a pile of discarded clothing. The camp outside was quiet as well. The fire was more smoke than flames and no one tended to it while they roused the others for battle. It seemed, odd, then, that no one was bothered by the sound.

Zevran. Did Zevran know something about it? He rolled onto his side and blinked hard against the gloom and his own sluggish responses to find the elf curled up tight against him, one hand tucked under his chin, the other left where it had rested beneath Levy’s head during the night. He hadn’t shifted during Leverette’s sudden waking or the noise, which continued, rising and falling, but never pausing, in a pattern much like his breathing.

Leverette rubbed at his eyes with a knuckle in some attempt to force himself closer to wakefulness. Was it some kind of snore? They hadn’t been sharing their tent for long, though long enough he thought he could recognize the other’s nightly habits and this was new to him still. Yet, the sound was coming from Zevran, Levy decided, resting a hand on the elf’s cheek. The soft rumble ran up the length of his arm, strong at the base of his jaw than elsewhere on his face, and grew louder when Leverette let his knuckles lightly trace the shape of his jawline. In his sleep, Zevran shifted to tilt his neck and Leverette choked on a breath.

Zevran stretching his neck for another brush of fingers along his cheek and purring.

Leverette lowered himself slowly back onto the bedroll, careful not to wake him. How often had this gone unnoticed? How many times had he missed Zevran make such a sound? Did Zevran know even know he did it? Was it an elven thing - Antivan - or completely unique to him? The more he thought about it, the more he realized - Zevran’s ability to be found in the most ridiculous of positions, his dexterity, and uncanny way he always manged to find the one sun-warmed spot when they made camp to clean his weapons. And now he could be found to purr. 

Leverette made another low, soft sound in the back of his throat. One he was sure the elf would make sure never passed his lips if he heard it for himself. He couldn’t help it. The way Zevran pressed close to him, limp in his sleep, and comfortable enough to share this part of him…

There was stutter in the purr and Leverette mourned the loss, and he cupped Zevran’s cheek in an effort to catch the last of the vibration as it turned into a sleepy mumble.

“It is far too early to make worry of the day’s troubles,” Zevran murmured, words slurring together as the effort of burrowing deeper under the blankets took most of his concentration rather than speaking.

Leverette smothered a chuckle by pressing his face into a pillow. “What?”

Enough of Zevran’s head peeked out beneath the sheet to show his eyes and thin slits of green reflected the barest hints of light. “If they are nightmares that make you fear, that is one thing, yet-”

He grinned. “You think I’m upset?”

“Your whimper. The noise-”

“ _My_ noise?” Leverette tucked an arm around Zevran and tugged him close, reveling in the way the elf eased against him. Zevran made a low sound of confirmation, a hum low in his throat that ended in a rumble not unlike his previous purr. Leverette laughed and made a note to ask him about it at a more reasonable time.


End file.
